A Little Advice
by OccasionallyCreative
Summary: When Mother Gothel was young and went by the name of 'Little G', her mother told her something which will reverberate through every phrase of her life: beauty is power. One-shot.


Gothel – or 'Little G' as she was known in her childhood – was always desperate to impress her mother. Nothing had worked so far. She'd painted her portrait, but her mother had simply tossed it onto the fire. She'd sung to her, but she had just been ignored. She'd even baked a chocolate cake, but her mother had proclaimed it to be 'too rich' and had told her father to throw it away.

It was a Sunday when Little G had found a way in. Her mother was sat at her dressing table and brushing out her long dark hair. Little G watched her mother, her mouth hanging open slightly with wonder. Her mother was always so pretty, with her brown eyes, long ebony black hair and soft smooth skin. Little G looked at her own earth-covered hands and her tangled mess of hair and sighed. She would never be as pretty as her mother. Her mother was a goddess. Little G was just a dumpling of a thing. As she lost herself in her own maudlin thoughts, her mother finally noticed her. Catching sight of her daughter's mud-encrusted hem, she sighed. Little G must have been playing in the fields again. Something had to be done to fix this, before it was too late.

"Little G," she called, turning around on her chair to face her daughter, "come here a moment. Sit on my lap."

Little G didn't have to be asked twice. She scrambled up and ran towards her mother's open arms and laughed as she was lifted into the air and onto her mother's lap. However, her laughter quickly died away as her mother lifted up her hands, inspecting them. Her mother sighed heavily.

"Oh, Little G. What are we going to do with you? Dirty fingernails, tangled hair... You need to look after yourself."

"Daddy says I'm beautiful no matter what I do."

"Daddy is wrong," her mother snapped. Little G dipped her head slightly, ashamed. She always got carried away.

"Now, Little G, listen to me," her mother said, gently tucking her fingers under her daughter's chin and moving her head so that she was facing her. Little G tried to smile, but failed. Her mother's beauty dumbfounded her yet again. Her sweetheart face was – as always – set into a disapproving scowl. Her hair fell past her shoulders down towards her waist. Her eyes though, her dark brown eyes pierced Little G, as if reading her like a book. She exuded authority and respect. She was someone to be feared, someone to be listened to.

"Yes, Mother?"

"Gothel, you mustn't listen to your father. Beauty is what you make it. If you squander your beauty and don't look after yourself, you allow other people to take advantage of you. However, if you look after yourself, you are the one who can control your life. You have the power. Do you see what I'm saying little one? Your beauty is your power. Never, ever squander it."

Little G had no idea of how to reply. As the words of her mother sunk into her brain and embedded themselves there like a poison, she slowly became acutely aware of all of her flaws. She could feel the dirt digging underneath her nails; she could sense the heavy weight of the dry mud on her hem. She felt disgusting. She wanted to change. She didn't want to be a dumpling anymore. She wanted to be a goddess. She wanted to be in control. She looked up at her mother, and found that her mother was smiling.

"Mummy, show me. Please. Show me how to be pretty."

Little G smiled as her mother clasped her tightly in her arms.

"Of course my darling. Of course I will."

That evening, for the first time in a long while, Little G felt happy. As her mother sat her in front of the mirror and began to brush out her hair, she hummed quietly to herself and gazed at her reflection. Her earth-covered skin had been washed and scrubbed until only the gleaming white skin of her youth shined out. Her old, mud-covered dress was long gone, replaced by a red velvet one which felt grown-up and regal. The last thing that had been left to do was her hair, but her mother had reassured her that it would be easy to fix. She turned out to be right. With every stroke of the hairbrush, the tight tangled curls of her hair transformed into a loose, smooth curl of hair. When finished, her mother stepped back to admire her now beautiful daughter. Little G looked at her mother, grinning. Her mother bent down and hugged her, dropping an affectionate kiss on her cheek.

"Never let go of your beauty, my pretty Little G. You'll always be pretty," she whispered. Little G stared at the mirror. Inside, the image was one that filled her heart with warmth, and one that would stay with her forever. This was what she had always been searching for. Her mother, with her arms wrapped tightly around her, was proud of her.


End file.
